Desperation
by Wichita29x
Summary: AU. Katniss starred at the bottle in his calloused hand. She had never drunk alcohol in her young life. She had never been with a man before. But what did that mean anymore? Nothing.


_Author's note: All of my stories are based on the movies/actors, not on the books._

* * *

 **Desperation**

There was a knock on his front door, but he ignored it. Nobody ever came around to see him. Unless the clown-like escort of District Twelve showed up for the Games, but it was winter and still a long way to go.

There was another knock and he began to curse.

Colorfully.

He lurched out of his filthy armchair, shuffling reluctantly toward the door and unlocked it with an odd squeaking sound. His bloodshot eyes caught a thin, gaunt figure who was standing in the bitter cold. A girl with sick blue lips who hadn't seen food for a long time.

He snorted; nothing new in Twelve.

"What do you want?" he snapped.

The girl said nothing, just swallowed hard and opened with trembling fingers her worn-out, over-sized coat. His dull eyes fell on her badly-fitting summer dress, totally out of place in the cold, merciless winter of Twelve.

But the penny dropped.

"Didn't Cray want you?" he sneered, and the girl flinched at the sound of his rough, unwelcoming voice.

No, Cray hadn't wanted her, just like on all the other days. This year's winter was cold and merciless; there were too many hungry mouths to feed. Too many young girls willing to do anything so that their little siblings didn't starve to death.

His gaze wandered over her body, feeling arousal stir in his groin. The last time a naked body had pressed against his had been in the Capitol. For money, of course. No woman who was in her right mind would tolerate a man in her bed who had been hanging on the bottle for almost two decades.

As starved as she looked, he couldn't imagine that he would enjoy her bony body beneath his. It wasn't difficult to guess why the old Peacekeeper hadn't chosen her.

But when was the last time he had made such an easy catch? He couldn't remember; and finally he stepped aside, pointing with his unshaven chin into his bleak house.

Her eyes widened and she mustered all her courage as she crossed the doorframe with one quick step. The girl glanced swiftly around, seeing rubbish and countless empty bottles were lying on the filthy floor. Inside the dark house it was almost as cold as outside, but it didn't matter, she hadn't come for tea or a chat.

"What do you want?" he asked again while he lifted his hand to her face, caressing her snow-white cheek with the back of his calloused fingers.

The girl shuddered under his unfamiliar touch, trying her best to stay calm and suppress the fear rising in her body and mind. Knowing that the man would soon touch much more than her face.

"Food." Her voice trembled, sounding unfamiliar to herself.

The man nodded briefly while his hand moved on to her long, slender neck. Her skin was pleasantly tender and soft, and his mind started to wander.

Why should he show more mercy than the Capitol citizens showed to the victors? he asked himself bitterly. When any sick, old bastard could buy a night with an innocent young victor, doing whatever he liked with them.

And for a brief moment, he felt sorry for her and for himself, because in the end, he wasn't only a murderer; he was as rotten as the Capitol itself.

Finally, he took a step back, letting his hand drop to his side. "Take your dress off."

Her cold, stiff fingers trembled as she reached for the buttons of her plain dress, lowering her big eyes in shame and despair to the floor. No wild animal had run into her snares, no rabbit or squirrel in front of her bow. If she didn't bring any food home, her little family would literally starve to death.

The former victor leaned against the doorframe, watching her with weary but still piercing eyes. Under different circumstances she could have been pretty, but her young cheeks were hollow and unnaturally pale. Dark shadows smudged the area beneath her eyes, gazing at everything in the hallway except him. Her long, black hair was wavy but unkempt, straggling around her small shoulders.

The girl reminded him of himself; haggard, gaunt, even if he had food in abundance. He snorted, shoving the thought aside, and decided to close his eyes as soon as she was under him. Her features were too sad and dull.

Frightened, and with shaky hands, she dropped the dress to the floor while he took a bottle from the cabinet, glancing with satisfaction at her firm, round breasts, which lifted and lowered with every shaky breath. He took a long sip of liquor, never letting his glance stray from her as he finally offered her the fire water.

"Drink this, sweetheart and I swear, you won't feel a thing."

She starred at the bottle in his calloused hand in disbelief. She had never drunk alcohol in her young life. She had never been with a man before. But what did that mean anymore? Nothing.

Finally, the young woman covered her bare breasts with her upper arm, before reaching for the liquor, then resolutely put the bottle to her full lips. She drank as much as her empty, nauseous stomach could handle.

When he took her, she felt nothing. Everything was muffled by the veil of alcohol. Carefully, he inserted one of his fingers, added a second one, slowly worked her open. He rubbed his erection along her soft lips, moistening them with his precum so he wouldn't hurt her, before he gently pushed into her warm tight hole. The former victor kept his pace slow, sensual, watching her face as her body tightened around his penis...

It was over as soon as it had begun.

Wrapped up in a warm blanket, the girl slept on his couch until her drunkenness was gone. A few hours later, she staggered down his stairs, holding a bag stuffed full with bread and cheese in one hand and in the other enough coins to get her and her family through the cold, harsh winter.

Watching her go, he hoped he wouldn't see her again at the reaping in summer.

How foolish he had been.


End file.
